


The Librarian and the Wandmaker

by GingerTodgers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explosions, Get Together, H/D Career Fair 2017, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Kissing, Librarian Harry Potter, M/M, Mild Peril, Minor Cho Chang/Padma Patil, Oblivious Harry Potter, Ollivanders Wand Shop, Wandlore, Wandmaker Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerTodgers/pseuds/GingerTodgers
Summary: Harry pops into the Ministry for lunch with Ron just in time to hear that there's been an explosion at Ollivanders (renamed Slytherclaws by new owners Padma Patil and Draco Malfoy).No one was hurt so why does Harry feel so terrible?





	The Librarian and the Wandmaker

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[27](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LiaSm8GWFLsDD8KUOZmlTSHmhIMyFZzdqYNfB-25Khk/edit).
> 
> A thousand thank yous to the wonderful Nova who provided much betaing and hand holding, and thank you to my lovely prompter.

Harry and Ron were having lunch at Ron’s desk when the call came in. Technically Harry should have been with his own colleagues at the weekly Librarians Who Lunch but Harry’s old mug was still in the Auror break room cupboard — “They think you’re coming back,” said Ron — and when Harry sank into one of the ergonomic office chairs every part of his back sighed with relief. Librarians really did not understand the value of good lumbar support.

It was almost like old times, apart from the fact that Harry had swapped constant stress headaches for spine shaped like an accordion after one too many late night in the library archives. Stretching — and either displacing or replacing five vertebrae at once — Harry tuned back in just as Ron explained that “...Fleur’s mum had a nasty fall last week so she and Bill are out in France with Charlie. S’good though, because her mum’s alright and they haven’t had a holiday since Louis was born. It’s been 24 hours of faffing with Maman Delacour and then five days of getting drunk with Charlie, and you know...”

Ron trailed off meaningfully, twitching and jerking his eyebrows around to convey that while Ronald Bilius Weasley was cognizant of the fact that his brother and sister-in-law had sex, saying so out loud was a bridge too far. Harry grunted thoughtfully and tried to look like a man who had never, ever, pictured either Bill Weasley or Fleur Delacour as anything other than fully clothed.

“What about Victoire?” Harry asked, checking to see if his tea was cold enough to drink yet. “Is she ready for Hogwarts?”

“Not yet, still got her wand to pick up but Padma’s helping with that.”

“Right.” Padma was now the co-owner of Ollivanders — renamed Slytherclaws at the insistence of the shop’s other partner: Draco Malfoy. “Fuck the haters, Potter, they can buy their wands on the continent.” Padma was also going out with Cho and if Harry wasn’t careful the conversation would be diverted into yet another breathy monologue from Ron on Cho’s “brilliant” investigation technique. A technique that, as far as Harry could tell, involved asking intelligent questions and being a competent Auror.

Not that he was jealous of Cho and Padma’s friendship with Ron and Hermione. It was just that when Ron was off chatting about work or Quidditch with Cho and Hermione was talking about wandlore and Pokemon with Padma it left Harry stuck talking to Draco. “We’re the sad singles,” Draco had cheerfully pointed out, before turning around and flirting with the least attractive wizard in the pub.

Shaking off a surge of irritation Harry turned back to Ron. “So that’s today, then?” he asked.

“Yeah. Draco’ll be there as well,” said Ron, rather pointlessly, Harry thought, as obviously Draco would be there. He was always there.

“Right.”

“Think you might pop by later?” Ron was doing one of those scrunchy head tilts that he’d either picked up from Hermione or the gigantic troll-cat they adopted after Crookshanks decided to stay at Hogwarts.

“Um, dunno. What time is Victoire’s appointment?”

Ron cast a Tempus. “Now, but I’m sure Draco will be happy to see you whenever.”

“Did he ask to see me?” Harry was starting to feel like he was missing half the conversation, something that had been happening more and more often whenever Draco was mentioned.

Usually it was Hermione who started in with some random comment about Draco’s latest foray into Muggle art appreciation or how helpful he’d been with the Elves’ Rights bill. If it wasn’t her, then Padma would tell Harry about something funny Draco had said at the shop, or Neville would say how much Draco had changed since school, and then they’d all look at Harry as if he was supposed to say something back other than “Er... good”. Now Ron was starting up and, honestly, Harry just didn’t have that much to say about Draco. Or at least not as much as his friends did.

“No, no, but you could just drop in, say hi. And all that...” Ron trailed off with a look that reminded Harry of the first time Ron had offered to go to a gay bar with him.

“Er... why?” It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to see Draco, in fact, he realised as he watched Ron inhale some crumbs, he did want to see Draco. Quite a lot. They still hadn’t settled the bill from the last Weasley dinner and Draco had asked Harry to teach him how to do something called torrenting. Both of which were excellent reasons to drop by and yet something in Harry’s chest shifted uneasily when he thought about just walking into Slytherclaws.

“Well...” Ron trailed off. “You’ve been getting on a lot better recently and... Hum... We thought, well, Hermione thought, that, you know, maybe you and Draco—”

Ron was interrupted as an automated Floo call announced that a fire and a small explosion had been reported in central London. No casualties. The PyroMages were requesting Auror assistance with crowd control.

Harry was in the middle of taking a large swallow of tea and reflecting on what an excellent idea it had been to swap Auroring for Archivism, when the location of the explosion was announced. Slytherclaws.

“You’re not coming,” Ron was already on his feet, sending Cho a text to meet him at the shop. Harry glared at the top of Ron’s head. “Don’t look at me like that,” Ron turned to pull on his official Auror robes, shaking his head. “You’re a civilian and—”

“Was I a civilian when I told your mum that I was the one who ate the bottom of Arthur's birthday dinner Cottage's Pie and then tried to replace the missing bits with half a tin of ravioli?”

Ron froze, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he drew himself up to his full height. “Alright fine. But you do what I tell you.”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, wondering how long it would take him to crack to whatever security charms would already be placed on Slytherclaws.

“And keep an eye on Cho,” said Ron, marching off toward the lifts. “She’ll pretend she’s fine but she’s completely daft when it comes to Pads.”

“Er. Not really sure I’m the right person for that,” said Harry, flashing back to the last time he’d tried to comfort Cho.

“You’ll be fine,” said Ron, jabbing the lift buttons so hard that the entire carriage shook. “I’ll cover for her with the Auror stuff, you can handle the emotional stuff. Dream team.”

“What? No. That is not a dream team.”

“Course it is. Look mate,” Ron swung around to face Harry as the lift hurtled down towards the Atrium. “I know you’re worried about Draco, you just have to channel that into looking after Cho, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry had no idea what Ron was talking about. But if there was one thing that being a librarian had taught him, it was that sometimes it was better just to keep quiet.

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Diagon Alley was in uproar when they arrived. Cho was already outside the wand shop, talking earnestly to one of the towering PyroMages, and thick acrid smoke hung in the air, making Harry’s eyes water.

The explosion had shaken the tiles loose from the shop on either side of Slytherclaws. Blackened shards of glass scattered across the street and the steel frames that had once held them were warped. The PyroMages had strung shield charms across the street, blocking the dozens of spectators currently pressed against the cordon, talking and gesturing excitedly.

The magical cordon parted before Ron and Harry (who sent up a prayer of thanks that his old Auror credentials still worked) and Ron turned to reinforce the charms. His mobile chirped and he read the text while still casting charms with his other hand. Harry used to be able to do that too, but six years at the library had got him into bad habits. Well. Good habits really, he was no longer charging towards death and destruction on a daily basis.

“Cho says that the PyroHealers are checking Vicky, Draco and Pads for explosives,” Ron said, nodding towards a dirty white medi-tent that had been set up opposite the shop. Cho was already standing next to it, waving her hands as she talked to the PyroMage on guard. Remembering Ron’s instructions, Harry took a few steps forward to try and speak to Cho, only for the PyroMage to shake her head at him. Right. Feeling about as useful and welcome as a cock in a trifle, Harry went back to watching Ron casting the charms. It looked like they’d be there for a while.

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It was another two hours before the PyroMages declared the shop clear of explosives, and allowed anyone other than Cho to stand next to the medi-tent. The firefighters immediately disappeared in the direction of Bane’s Buns and Breads, leaving their Chief to file the report.

“No casualties,” she started, casting an appraising eye over the three pinched faces in front of her. “Catalyst unknown but we think the first explosion caused the fire. Started in the back-right hand corner of the main shop floor. The adults, Mr. Draco Malfoy and Ms. Padma Patil, cast quenching charms and safely escorted Miss Weasley from the building but the charms did not hold and another explosion occurred. It was this explosion that damaged the surrounding buildings and destroyed the shop window.”

“But they’re alright?” asked Cho, lifting a hand to pause the hovering Quality-Assured Quick Quotes Quill that was taking down the Chief's statement. Harry felt a rush of guilt that it was the first time he’d heard her speak since the call came in.

“Yes Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Patil and Miss Weasley are unharmed and being looked over by our PyroHealers,” recited the Chief, mopping her face before tucking the corner of the headscarf back into the neck of her uniform. “Miss Weasley is your niece,” she told, rather than asked, Ron.

“Yeah, but I’m alright to take the report,” he insisted. “Just... Is she really okay?”

“She’s fine, they’re all fine.” The Chief opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by screams from the crowd. The street fell dark and wind ripped hats from people’s head as a large dragon circled overhead.

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Bill and Fleur Weasley would forever insist that hijacking a dragon, flying it across The Channel, and landing in the centre of magical London was a perfectly reasonable response to being told that their daughter had been involved in an explosion. Neither of them was feeling the need for caution and Charlie had been happy for them to give the dragon a little exercise.

All of this was explained once the worried parents were assured and reassured that Victoire was quite alright. However, despite the Chief’s reassurances, the medi-tent remained sealed, which left Ron plenty of time to arrest Bill.

“What are you doing?” asked Bill, sidestepping Ron’s Expelliarmus.

“It’s not like I want to do this,” said Ron, casting more successfully this time and tucking Bill’s wand into his own robes. “You are such a wanker. Who flies a dragon into a crime scene? You realise I have to arrest you now? Dangerous flying, contravening the Statute of Secrecy,” he started ticking the reasons off on his fingers, “and I know you don’t have a permit for that thing—”

“Achilles is not a thing,” Fleur hissed, pushing past Ron and making her way towards the medi-tent, rolling up her sleeves as she approached. Luckily for the PyroMage on duty, Fleur had barely opened her mouth when the tent flap was flung open and Victoire tumbled out, a charred wand clutched in each hand and a wide grin on her sooty face.

“Mum!” Victoire yelled, leaping up to hug Fleur while still keeping hold of the two wands. “You’re here! Did you hear about what happened? The wands nearly blew up the shop!”

“French french,” said Fleur, smoothing Victoire’s wild hair. “French french french.”

“Yeah it was great!” Victoire continued, happily ignoring her mother’s whispered endearments. “There was a massive bang and all the wands started flying at me! I—”

“Padma!”

Victoire was interrupted by Cho’s shout as Padma emerged from the tent.

“Hello love,” said Padma, giving a shaky smile as Cho sprinted over to her. “Yes, hello,” she said, laughing as Cho’s hands fluttered across her shoulders and down her arms. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to do that to me again.” Cho’s hands finally settled on Padma’s shoulders as she pulled her in for a kiss. “I’m the one with the dangerous job,” she gave Padma a small shake. “Me, not you. You don’t get to make me worry like this.”

“That’s not really how it works, but all right.” Padma was still smiling, wrapping her long thin body around Cho’s stocky frame. “You can do the dangerous bit and work in the wand shop, and I’ll chase after criminals.” Cho’s laugh was thick with tears and she gave Padma another shake.

They continued murmuring to each other as the tent opened for a third time and, finally, Draco appeared. Victoire had already given her uncles a hug before being swept back up by Fleur and Bill. Ron was talking to the Chief and Harry was, once again, stuck with Draco.

“Oh hello, are you my welcome committee?” Draco was smiling as well. His eyes had dark circles under them and there was soot all over the left side of his face but he looked... good. He looked good, Harry realised, feeling something tickle behind his breastbone.

“Guess I am,” he said. “Are you alright? Why are you smiling?”

Harry’s question made Draco smile even more and he took a small step forward, “It was a wand surge, Potter. Incredibly rare, never expected to see it in my lifetime. I’m still struggling to believe it.” He was right in front of Harry now, grinning like he expected Harry to have any idea what the fuck he was talking about.

“Er. Right.”

“Exactly,” Draco sighed, nodding as if Harry had actually managed to construct a sentence. “Can you imagine what WORM will say? They’re bound to demand a write-up, if not an editorial lead.”

“Um. Seriously, are you alright?” The strange fluttery feeling in Harry’s chest was rapidly turning into panic. “Do you need to sit down? You’re not really making any sense.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Draco waved him off. “Padma’s far better at explaining that I am. Pads? Pads! Stop canoodling and tell Potter what a wand surge is.”

“Piss off, Draco,” Cho called, still firmly hugging Padma. “Tell him yourself.”

“Very well,” Draco huffed as he turned back to Harry.

“Later, you will tell him later.” Fleur appeared between them, gently taking Draco’s hand and pulling him over to where Bill, Victoire, and Ron were already waiting.

“Everyone’s going back to ours,” Ron called to Harry. “I’ve got to file the report and finish arresting this tosser,” he indicated Bill, who flipped him off, “but Hermione’s getting lots of tea and cocoa on. You’re going with them?”

Harry was about to protest that he had work, but a quick Tempus told him that it was already 6.30pm. The hours waiting for Draco, Padma, and Victoire to emerge were a bit of a blur and, apparently, he’d managed to miss the whole afternoon.

“Alright then,” he said, wondering why the panicky feeling in his chest seemed to be getting worse. “Let’s go.”

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Since all the family clocks had spent ten minutes with Victoire’s hand set to “peril”, Hermione and Ron’s front room was already crammed full of worried Weasleys. Astoria was also there, hovering awkwardly while Scorpius hugged his dad. Harry and Ginny’s kids had been spending the day with George and Angelina’s kids, and so managed to make an even louder, more dramatic entrance than Fleur and Bill’s earlier attempt.

Victoire was quickly drawn into an argument with Dominique about whether it was greedy to have two wands, Teddy was sprawled on the floor, playing with the troll-cat and getting in everyone's way, and Molly and Arthur seemed intent on hugging, praising, and scolding all of their grandchildren at once.

If it wasn’t for the lingering smell of smoke and Fleur’s vice like grip on Victoire’s wrist it could have been any other family gathering. Like a birthday, or Christmas. Except Christmas didn’t usually make Harry feel like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Confident that it would be at least another twenty minutes before everyone shut up long enough to let Victoire explain what had happened to Slytherclaws, Harry slipped into the hallway.

After the heat of the overcrowded front room the passage was rather cold and Harry shivered as he sank onto the bottom step of the narrow staircase. Wrapping his arms around his legs he rested his forehead on his knees and tried to concentrate on breathing.

Common sense suggested that compressing his lungs was, actually, a terrible way to make sure he got enough oxygen. Still, it was comforting. Rather like a hug, he mused as he allowed his eyelashes to brush against the denim covering his thighs and tried not to think about white hair, surrounded by black smoke.

“Potter?” It was Draco, carefully closing the front room door behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Um. No. Not... not really,” Harry admitted. “I don’t know what’s wrong but...” he trailed off, his chin now perched on top of his right knee as he stared up at Draco.

“Oh, well, good,” said Draco, shoving his hand into his pockets. “I’m not alright either.”

“Do you… Do you want to sit?” Harry shuffled along the step. Draco hesitated before squeezing in next to Harry. It was a tight fit and they fidgeted around for a while until Draco was sitting on the step above Harry. They were still nearly eye-to-eye, Draco’s height was all in his long legs, and the side of his body pressed against Harry immediately began to send waves of warmth through Harry’s jumper.

They sat like this for a few minutes, listening to the muffled shouts through the front room door and watching the last of the day’s sunshine disappear from the hallway.

“Why aren’t you alright?” Harry asked. “Are you... Are you worried about the insurance?”

“No no.” Draco shook his head, eyes fixed on the front room door. “Unclaimed wands are volatile creatures. Pads makes sure that our insurance is in shape, especially ‘round this time of year.”

“What's so special about now?”

“Most of the children have already selected their wands,” Draco’s voice was soft, the manic laughter from the medi-tent was gone. “The wands that have yet to find an owner seem to realise that they’re on borrowed time, they become... anxious, agitated.”

“Is that what happened today?”

“I don’t know. No,” Draco shook his head. “No, today was a wand surge. They were attracted to Victoire’s magic. It happens, sometimes, with, ah, with very powerful magical creatures.” He smiled. “Everyone was rather expecting it to happen when you went to get your wand.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh yes. Terribly anticlimactic when you just picked a wand and walked out.”

“Huh, didn’t feel like that at the time. Anyway, tell me about the wands. Today.”

“Well,” Draco leaned closer to Harry, his smile growing, “the wands had been restless all morning and when Victoire walked in they began fighting for her attention. Victoire had barely stepped on the measuring platform when the wands just, pfft!” He blew a raspberry. The silliness of the gesture causing Harry to almost swallow his own tongue. “It’s not funny,” Draco insisted, drawing himself up as straight as any grown man can while hiding on some stairs.

“Was that,” Harry broke off to get his laughter under control, “was that supposed to be a bang?”

“Yes! An explosion. Wands erupted from the drawers and started streaming towards her.” Draco’s face was so painfully earnest, his posture still hinting at injured pride, that Harry had to bite sharply on his own tongue not to laugh again.

“Is that how she ended up with two wands?”

“Exactly. WORM are going to be beside themselves.”

“Alright. Who are worm?”

“WORM, all capitals, are the premier wand journal.”

“Hmm, but what does _WORM_ ,” Harry exaggerated the word to demonstrate that all the required capitals were in place, “stand for?”

Draco blinked a few times, his eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth.

“It’s just WORM.”

“So it’s not an acronym or...”

“No.” Draco’s eyes were still fixed on Harry’s mouth and Harry realised that he must have terrible breath. He’d had a couple of Ron’s ice mice while they waited for the PyroMages to give the all clear but that was a few hours ago and he was probably breathing stale air all over Draco.

“Shit.”

“Pardon?”

“Is my breath rank?”

Draco’s eyebrow quirked, like he realised Harry hadn’t meant to ask that out loud, and he opened and closed his mouth before reassuring Harry. “Your breath is fine. Is my breath... rank?”

“No, no it’s alright. I can’t really smell it, just your cologne.” Fuck, Harry glanced at the front room door, desperate for someone to come and interrupt them before he asked to stroke Draco’s hair or something equally mortifying.

“My... right, very well. Why were you worrying about your breath?” Draco shifted so that his upper body was now angled towards Harry.

“You were staring at my mouth,” said Harry, letting his eyes drift down to Draco’s own mouth.

“I was?” Draco asked, moving closer.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

The kiss was soft. Draco’s stubble scratched at Harry’s bottom lip and, when they separated, Harry’s glasses slipped down his nose a bit. Harry shifted and his legs slide beneath Draco’s. He hadn’t meant to do that but it was a nice fit, cosy, and Draco didn’t seem to mind, lifting his right thigh to make more room for Harry. If anyone came out of the front room it would look like Draco was sitting in Harry’s lap. Draco sighed and kissed Harry again, another soft brush of lips. And that was... That was...

“Shit,” Harry sighed.

“What now?” Draco pressed even closer, stretching an arm out along the step behind Harry’s back.

“I’ve worked out why I feel so bad.”

“You...” Draco blinked. “You feel bad?”

“Yeah. I want to kiss you. Again. Fuck.”

“You feel bad because you want to kiss me?” Harry hadn’t realised how soft Draco’s voice had become until he heard anger slipping back into it.

“Yes, no. Well, yes.” Harry flailed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’ve been feeling bad ever since you came out of that fucking tent and I, I only just realised why. Sorry, Draco.”

“Sorry?” Draco untangled himself from Harry in a flurry of long limbs and wounded eyes. “Oh, oh please do not apologise, clearly I should be apologising to you.” He stood and Harry followed, panicking at the way Draco stepped away from him.

“Draco.”

“It must be absolutely revolting, even thinking about kissing someone as loathsome as me. Please, take yourself away,” Draco was still backing away from Harry, his hands raised.

“Would you stop?” Harry reached out and grabbed one of Draco’s hands, pulling him in close. Draco resisted and they nearly overbalanced. “Listen,” Harry panted, grimly making a note that if a scuffle with Draco The Human Pipe Cleaner was taking it out of him then he really, really, needed to resurrect his Auror fitness regime. “I felt bad because you... You just...” Harry trailed off. Draco opened his mouth to start arguing and with a frustrated sigh Harry surged forward.

This kiss wasn’t really a kiss so much as it was a lip smear. Harry’s lips caught the side of Draco’s open mouth and then just kind of slide down his jaw. Draco froze, choking back whatever he’d been about to say and Harry froze with him, his nose pressed behind Draco’s ear.

“Potter?” Draco croaked, his hands coming to rest on Harry’s hips.

“Nope.” Harry shook his head slightly but stayed where he was. Draco’s neck was soft and if Harry closed his eyes and let his head fill up with white noise then he could maybe pretend that he wasn’t in the middle of making a terrible decision.

“Potter.”

“No, I’m staying here. Sorry.” Harry felt Draco sigh, the sound vibrating through his throat and up through Harry’s lips.

“You... You’re staying there?”

“Yep. I’m done. Going to curl up here and allow myself to die of humiliation.”

“Humiliation because you want to kiss me?” Draco’s hands were now holding tightly to Harry’s hips.

“No,” said Harry, “I’m humiliated because I did kiss you and it was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“What—”

“I slid off your chin, Draco. I am the kissing equivalent of spilled soup.”

Draco started laughing.

“Well, I do have a fondness for soup.”

Harry sighed. “You do?”

“Yes, I much prefer it in my mouth howev— Oh fuck it all, I can’t do this. You are not soup, Harry. You are a ridiculous human being who should kiss me again. Now.”

“What?” Harry finally pulled back from the safety of Draco’s neck, smiling up at him. “But you were just getting into your stride. What kind of soup Dra—”

This time Draco kissed Harry. The two of them stayed very still, slowly brushing their lips together as they learnt the shape of each other’s mouths. Harry didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Draco’s tongue nudged his lips apart and Harry let out a sigh. It was good. Sweet, and soft.

Harry reached forward and pulled Draco even closer, deepening the kiss and marvelling at the feel of Draco’s arms around him. They kissed and kissed, pressed against the wall of Hermione and Ron’s rather dingy flat as laughter floating out into the darkened hallway. The nagging panic in Harry’s chest was calming down and he pressed even closer, chasing Draco’s breathless sighs.

And so, of course, that was the moment when the door to the front room flew open, unleashing light, noise, and a thousand yelling children into the hall. Harry lurched away from Draco, bashing his elbow against the wall and swearing loudly.

“Rude!”

“Swear word!”

“See mum, Harry swears all the time!”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Don’t you want to hear the story?”

“Why are you so red?”

"Where you kissing?"

“What’s a cun—” Hermione intercepted Albus before he could finish his question but Harry was not going to hear the end of that.

“Cheer up, Potter,” whispered Draco. “At least they missed your attempt to seduce me by role-playing a bowl of stew.”

“I will stew you,” said Harry, trying not to smile.

“That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense.”

And there it was. With a shimmy and a shake the gnawing panic finally fucked off, leaving Harry with a new boyfriend and — judging from the gleeful looks on everyone's faces — a lot of explaining to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/131831.html).


End file.
